


Comfy Kingdom of Goodies

by nathadea (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Angry Thorin Oakenshield, Chef Thranduil, Fancy Restaurants, Funny (I hope), Gen, Hungry Thorin, Waiter Bard, Waiter Legolas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4171977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/nathadea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin was hungry. Fortunately there was a simple solution called "Comfy Kingdom of Goodies"... a restaurant owned by his worst enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfy Kingdom of Goodies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first real (and silly) attempt at fanfiction. English is not my first language, so excuse my mistakes, please.  
> I hope you will enjoy reading this crazy story, as much as I enjoyed writing it :-). I will appreciate your feedback.

Thorin was hungry and it made him pissed off. He felt like he hadn't eaten for days. But there was a simple solution called "Comfy Kingdom of Goodies". It was the best restaurant in the city, owned by Thorin's worst enemy and  
co-owned by two less bad but still very bad enemies of Thorin's. Unfortunately it was also the nearest restaurant to Thorin's current location and his only choice, if he didn't want to starve.  
As soon as he opened the huge double door leading to the restaurant, he knew that this was probably the worst decision he'd ever made and he would regret it horribly.  
"Good morning Mr Oakenshield, welcome to 'Comfy Kingdom of Goodies'!" Thorin frowned at the blonde waiter dressed in a fancy white uniform, who greeted him with a wide smile on his face.  
"Morning," Thorin grunted. Though the waiter's face looked kind, there was something odd in his eyes. Something that said: "My father's in the kitchen but I greeted you so loudly that he knows about your presence… You are going to experience what real hell feels like."  
"I am so glad you've chosen our establishment today, sir. There are many guests here, but as you can see, we have two free tables. That one by the window is the best. You have a beautiful view of the city, when you sit there…"  
"Oh, OK. Thanks," Thorin said. He was about to occupy the table for himself but the waiter stopped him with a polite pat on the shoulder.  
"Excuse me, sir but this table is reserved for Lord Elrond. You can sit at that lovely table by the toilets. But don't worry, our toilets smell like a spring meadow," he said and smiled sweetly.  
Thorin clenched his fists, gave the waiter the most murderous look he could make and went to the second table.  
"Stupid elves. A spring meadow? Who do you want to fool, you daft Barbie?!" Thorin was muttering insults, ignoring the startlingly pleasant smell of fresh flowers coming from the toilets.  
"Legolas! Bard says that the cloth on Lord Elrond's table is dirty. Go and change it!" A gentle but commanding voice, so hated by Thorin, resounded from the kitchen.  
"We have no table cloths left, dad," Legolas, the blonde waiter answered.  
"So take the cloth from the table by the toilets. And hurry."  
When Thorin saw Legolas coming to him with the cloth that had a bright green spinach stain on it, his short-tempered nature betrayed him.  
"I will not dine on this filthy piece of rag! Do you think that dwarves are disgusting creatures, who don't care about aesthetics? We used to have majestic halls made of gold and gems!" he shouted and banged the table with his hand. All the guests (mostly elves and a few men) turned to look at Thorin with slightly surprised expressions.  
"But sir, you shouldn't speak like this in a classy restaurant. All the people are looking at you," Legolas whispered.  
"I won't dine on that cloth," Thorin repeated. Legolas's lips curled into another charming smile and he gracefully removed the clean cloth from Thorin's table.  
"Alright, sir. No problem. I won't give you the dirty cloth. I believe this was just a little misunderstanding, am I right?" Thorin murmured something, that only his beard could hear but then nodded.  
"Thank you, sir. My colleague will take your order in a moment," Legolas said and went to change the cloths. Thorin took the menu, which lay on the table, just to realize that it was written in elvish. He cursed with the worst dwarf swearword ever invented.  
"Oh, Mr Thorin Oakenshield! I can't believe you came to our Comfy Kingdom," spoke a dark-haired waiter.  
"I can't believe it either, Mr Bard," Thorin remarked. Bard chuckled at his words.  
"Have you chosen what you will eat yet?" he asked.  
"I would, if this stupid menu wasn't in bloody elvish. How can you understand what the guests want? Your boss couldn't bother to make it multilingual, could he?" Bard smiled at Thorin sympathetically.  
"I am so sorry. But we also have menus in common language. I think I saw one over there, on that table by the window… Never mind, I will tell you what we offer myself." Bard pulled a folded paper from the big pocket on his apron. Thorin looked like he was about to grab a chair and break it over Bard's head. Bard didn't get distracted by his furious gaze and began reading from the paper.  
"So... You'd maybe like a dish recommended by the chef himself…"  
"No."  
"No? But we have great recommendations from the chef. Such as The Woodland Sprite's Surprise…"  
"No, I want something cheap and quick, so I can get out of this terrible sweatshop as soon as I eat my fill." Thorin was getting impatient and much more pissed off than before and the calming music playing in the background didn't help at all.  
"As you wish. Something cheap, you say… I would recommend The Lands of Peace (a wonderful vegetable salad, it's good for your digestion) or The Flames of War, which is a bowl of mixed meats and lots of hot pepper sauce. Will you have Peace or War?" Thorin didn't have to think twice. Which dwarf would dine on a dull elven salad?  
"I will have… War," he said with a dramatic pause.  
"Good choice, sir. You will be eating in fifteen minutes." Bard walked off to the kitchen. Thorin heard him saying: "Mr Oakenshield will have War, Thranduil," and then deep muffled giggles, coming from the throat of the arrogant elven chef.  
\---  
"Here you go. The Flames of War with a message from the chef for you." Bard put a beautifully decorated bowl full of delicious food on Thorin's table. Thorin began eating immediately, huge spoonfuls of meat like the real man he was.  
"What message?" Bard came closer to him and bent, so his head was on the same level as Thorin's.  
"Choke yourself, sir," Bard said in an undertone. This simple message caused Thorin to have a coughing fit, as he choked on the meat.  
"I am so sorry, sir. I didn't have any idea what he meant by that," Bard apologized.  
\---  
Thorin had almost finished his meal, when he saw something that didn't look like edible thing in his bowl. It was golden and silver and round and it was a ring. Thorin pulled it out and examined it carefully. It had to be a very expensive piece of jewellery. Thorin was sure he knew who had dropped it into his meat. It was the same person who had wished him to choke himself and who happened to love expensive rings. But Thorin had a plan. The ring was too gorgeous not to try it.  
"Waiter! I have a complaint!" he exclaimed. Legolas rushed to him.  
"What's wrong, sir? You didn't like the food?"  
"I did like it… It was reasonable. Until I found this thing in it. And because I am unsatisfied with your service and I find your and your colleague's behaviour rude, I think that it would be fair, if I kept this ring as compensation." It was the first (and last) time Thorin replaced his frowning face with a vicious smirk.  
"I think that I am not the right person to decide this. I have to ask father," Legolas said. After a while he came from the kitchen followed by another blonde but slightly taller man. Thorin groaned.  
"Why? I didn't want to speak to the chef. What are you doing here, Thranduil?" he asked. Thranduil put on his white hygienic gloves and slowly strode towards Thorin, until he was towering above him with an almost psychopathic  
look on his face.  
"I came to reclaim something of mine," he said and jerked the ring from Thorin's fingers. That was the final straw for Thorin. He stood up and climbed on the chair, so he was looking Thranduil right into the eyes.  
"Now listen to me! I would like to speak to you like one King to another but I don't think it is possible. It is fruitless to reason with an elf. They only understand one thing. Maybe I could pardon your behaviour because you have it in your family. You are just like your father. But I don't see any reason to excuse your terrible rudeness, Thranduil. You just linger in the kitchen and let your companions bully me! But I won't let you to vilify me anymore! You started this. You will forgive me, if I finish it." Thranduil was surprised that this dwarf could shout with such grace. It was as if he had stolen his words from Thranduil's vocabulary.  
"How dare you! How dare you accuse me, my family and my staff of demeanor that belongs only to filthy dwarves like yourself!" Thranduil hissed.  
"Father, don't bother with him," Legolas said but Thranduil ignored him.  
"Coming to my restaurant was a mistake and you have to learn that you are not welcome here, Oakenshield. You wanted war. You will get it!" Thranduil's royal coolness and tranquility were gone. He looked like he could kill with absolutely anything he had at hand.  
"Thranduil, if you don't want me here, write it on the door," Thorin growled. Thranduil grasped the collar of Thorin's vest with both his hands and roughly put him on the floor. He used Thorin's surprise to his advantage and pulled out a huge wooden spoon, which was hidden somewhere in his clothes. He swiped it like a sword very near to Thorin's face. Thorin stepped back. He stared at the chef's manic face and wondered whether an aggressive contact of the spoon with his head would kill him or not.  
"Oh no! No, Ada, calm down! Bard, father went mad!" Legolas was hiding behind a table and then he realized, so was Bard.  
"I am so sorry about him. He doesn't consider Mr Oakenshield a friend…" he said to an elven couple, who watched the scene but looked quite amused.  
"Don't be a coward, Oakenshield!" Thranduil shouted and drew nearer to Thorin, his spoon dangerously whirling in the air.  
"Says the weakling attacking the unarmed," Thorin said. But then he realized that he wasn't really unarmed. He picked his chair up and before Thranduil could dodge, Thorin hit him hard. Thranduil fell to the ground.  
"Oh no, what have you done?" Legolas cried out and ran to his father laying on the floor without any signs of life.  
"Don't bother calling the ambulance. His head is too stiff and I can assure you that this chair couldn't hurt him at all," Thorin said and left without ceremony. He left behind a restaurant full of shocked elves and a few shocked men.  
\---  
It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and Thorin was hungry. He bit into his chicken sandwich and walked past the infamous Comfy Kingdom of Goodies with a brand-new tag on the door: "Banned for dwarves".


End file.
